Inspiration – Homage to Maria CurcioAnthony Goldstone, piano

1 Ave Maria (Ellens Dritte Gesang), S. 558, No. 12 (Schubert, arr. Liszt) 5.54

2 La danza (Tarantella Napolitana), S. 424, No. 9 (Rossini, arr. Liszt) 4.16

3 Alma Brasileira (Choro No. 5) (Villa-Lobos) 4.46

4 Variations on a Chaconne, Op. 3 (Casella) 7.12

Walzer (Waltzes), Op. 15, No. 3 (Schnabel) * 7.235 Sehr lebhaft 0.416 Nicht zu rasch 1.257 Nicht rasch 1.258 Mit grösstem Schwung, sehr flottes Walzertempo 3.50

9 Rondo in A minor, K. 511 (Mozart) 10.16

10 Fantasie, Op. 77 (Beethoven) 9.11

11 Polonaise in F sharp minor (“Tragic”), Op. 44 (Chopin) 10.39

12 Mariä Wiegenlied (Maria's Cradle Song), Op. 76, No. 52 (Reger)in Reger’s transcription 2.12

13 Widmung (Dedication), Op. 25, No. 1 (Schumann, arr. Liszt) 3.28

14 Concert Aria “Ch’io mi scordi di te? ... Non temer, amato bene”, K. 505 (Mozart) ** 9.53Maria Curcio, piano, Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, sopranoRoyal Concertgebouw Orchestra conducted by Otto Klempererrecorded “live” in Amsterdam in 1957

Total CD duration including pauses 75.23

* première recording

Obituary of Maria Curcio by Niel Immelman, reproduced by kindpermission of The Guardian

Maria Curcio

Gifted pianist who became a perceptive and generous teacher of international repute

The Guardian, Tuesday, 14 April 2009

Maria Curcio, who has died aged 89, was one of the most influential and sought-after piano teachersof the second half of the 20th century. Although it can be as misleading to judge teachers by theirstudents as it is to judge pianists by their teachers, the many distinguished artists who turned to herfor help and advice attest to her legendary status. These include Pierre-Laurent Aimard, MarthaArgerich, Myung-Whun Chung, Barry Douglas, José Feghali, Leon Fleisher, Peter Frankl, ClaudeFrank, Anthony Goldstone, Ian Hobson, Terence Judd, Radu Lupu, Rafael Orozco, Alfredo Perl,Hugh Tinney, Geoffrey Tozer and Mitsuko Uchida.

Curcio was born in Naples, the daughter of a wealthy Italian businessman and a Brazilian mother, apianist in her own right, who spotted the girl’s exceptional talent at a very early age. The youngMaria gave her first concert aged three and was excited to receive flowers, toys and chocolates fromthe audience. Her mother became overly ambitious: Maria was tutored at home to leave more timefor practising and was urged to accept too many engagements too soon, causing her to describe herchildhood as “not a happy one” because there was no time to play or have friends. Her mother did,however, see to it that she received the best possible training, arranging for her to study with AlfredoCasella, Carlo Zecchi and, in Paris, with Nadia Boulanger. When she was invited to play toMussolini, the seven-year-old, with characteristic strong-mindedness, refused to appear in front of“this man who is ruining our country”.

When Maria was 15, Zecchi took her with him to attend the pianist Artur Schnabel’s masterclassesat Lake Como. She played for Schnabel, who immediately accepted her as a student, describing heras “one of the greatest talents I have ever met”. At Schnabel’s home, she also met her futurehusband, Peter Diamand, who was Schnabel’s secretary. She accompanied the students ofSchnabel’s wife, the renowned Lieder singer Therese Behr, from whom she claimed to have learnedas much as from Schnabel. When he was on tour, she had lessons with Fritz Busch.

This was a wonderfully happy time – she worshipped Schnabel and seemed set for a biginternational career. The outbreak of the second world war changed all this. Schnabel went to

America and Diamand returned to Holland, where he would eventually become director of theHolland Festival. Curcio went along and stayed with him and his mother in Amsterdam. Sheperformed often until Jews were banned from playing in public, and she turned down all offers ofengagements in protest.

The Diamands were Jewish and Curcio was in considerable danger through her close associationwith them. Urgent appeals from her parents to return to Italy were ignored. The situation deterioratedand Diamand and his mother went into hiding. Curcio looked after them, risking her life to get foodand obtain forged identity papers for them. Through stress, deprivation and malnutrition, shecontracted tuberculosis and had to spend many months in a sanatorium after the war.

She was left far too weak to play but, with great dedication, she started to rebuild her technique,giving concerts when she was well enough to do so. Artists she collaborated with included BenjaminBritten, Carlo Maria Giulini, Szymon Goldberg, Otto Klemperer, Josef Krips, Pierre Monteux andElisabeth Schwarzkopf. After hearing her in recital, the conductor Wilhelm Furtwängler suggested toWalter Legge that she should record Schubert for HMV, but another health crisis prevented this fromhappening.

Curcio and Diamand married in 1947. Her health meant a performing career was no longer anoption, so she turned her attention to teaching, believing she had always had a gift for it, havingworked with Schnabel’s students, many of whom were older than herself. She also coached singersat the behest of Krips when he conducted the Netherlands Opera. As an Italian, she had a naturalaffinity with bel canto and it is no surprise that Mozart and Chopin featured prominently in therepertoire she assigned to students.

With the help of Britten, she settled in London in 1965 and it was here that her “second career”really took off. Annie Fischer, Giulini and Rostropovich sent students to her and soon young pianistswere flocking to her door. She was insistent that students should progress step by step and if anyoneappeared unrealistically ambitious she would say: “One does not build a house from the roof.”

I started studying with Curcio in 1970, and so began an inspirational association that would lastalmost until 2006, when she moved to Portugal. I used to marvel at the acuteness of her auralperception. She would sometimes stand with her back to the piano and say: “I think your left wrist israther high.” How she could do this without seeing my hands used to puzzle me until I realised thatfor her there was no division between music and technique. A “beautiful sound” was of little interestto her – what she searched for was a sound that would convey the essence of a work. Although sheadvocated studying away from the instrument – “we must hear what we see and see what we hear”,

she was immensely practical in dealing with the physical aspects of piano playing. Her willingnessto adapt to each student, and her generosity (she sometimes taught without charge those who couldnot afford lessons), testify to her desire to help others.

Curcio was no Schnabel clone. Although his edition of the Beethoven Sonatas was always at hand inher studio, she preferred students to work from the Henle Urtext. The Austro-German repertoire wascentral to her teaching but, thanks to her studies with Casella, she was equally at home with Frenchmusic. When I played Janáček’s rarely performed Capriccio for her, her insight seemed soinstinctive that I wondered if she had encountered the work before. “No darling, but I do knowJenůfa,” she replied.

Her interests ranged far beyond music. She spoke Italian, English, French, Dutch and German andcollected art. As her teaching career began to draw to a close, Curcio became increasingly aware ofher musical legacy and, during one of our last conversations, she expressed her happiness that herformer students taught at each of the four London conservatoires, and many worldwide.

Her marriage to Peter was dissolved in 1971. Maria was lovingly cared for during her final illness byher one-time housekeeper, Luzia Pidgeon.

Barry Douglas writes: Maria Curcio was an extraordinary human being, musician, teacher, cookand friend. She clarified music and technique and, to this day, I benefit from her wisdom. She toldme she had worked out all these answers while lying in a hospital bed in Holland; she wasrecovering from TB. Apparently Otto Klemperer was in the same hospital and flirted dreadfully,managing to spill all her orange juice over her.

Maria’s lessons lasted for hours and I would go every day. She never stood still, but continuallyrenewed and relearned her craft and passed it quickly on to her students. Once she showed me aparticular muscle at the top of the right arm that enabled her to play with more of a singing tone, andI use it to this day.

Maria Curcio, pianist and teacher, born 27 August 1919; died 30 March 2009

Anthony Goldstone in conversation with Chloe Cutts, reproduced by kindpermission of International Piano

“I had no idea what to do after leaving the Royal Manchester College of Music, and so I asked thepianists Annie Fischer and Peter Frankl who would be a good teacher. Both came up with this nameI’d never heard of. It was 1967, and Maria had been teaching in London for only a year or two. Iplayed for her at her house and she was terribly supportive and agreed to teach me. As I was just aprovincial boy, meeting this dynamo of a woman was quite a culture shock. I was living inManchester and would go to London and stay at the London Musical Club in Holland Park for aweek at a time. There were amazing people staying there: Martha Argerich, Stephen Kovacevich andRafael Orozco, who had won the Leeds Competition in 1966. Maria knew them all. It was anextraordinary time.

Lessons were incredibly intensive. She was half southern Italian and half Brazilian, and her responseto music came out of her temperament and out of her life experiences, which were pretty awful. Shehad been tried to the utmost in her life and experienced the extremes of every emotion. To haverevealed to you what was possible in music was quite a shock! She wasn’t always the easiest personbecause she had very strong views and wouldn’t compromise in her art, and I remember being intears during one lesson just because of her determination to break down the reserve in her students.She was releasing what was inside, emotionally, but some students couldn’t take it and withdrew. Atother times her lessons could be amusingly chaotic – her little toy Dachshund called Hera, after theGreek goddess, would yap and sit on your feet while you were trying to pedal, which certainlylightened proceedings.

I was incredibly lucky to study with Maria because Schnabel was my hero when I was a teenager. Irealized that there was something great in Schnabel’s playing, and going to Maria helped me tounderstand what lay behind the notes – the spirituality and the great profundity of interpretation thatSchnabel could bring. Being Italian, Maria absolutely adored song and would often sing duringlessons; she told me that when she was studying with Schnabel she had ended up accompanying thepupils of his wife, the great Lieder singer Therese Behr, and she said that she had learned as muchfrom Therese as she had from Schnabel.

I never heard Maria perform but she would demonstrate in lessons, and there was such life andplayfulness in her playing – and such tremendous love. She never practiced but could demonstrateanything. She could also tell you what muscles to employ and how to relax and support yourself withyour back. She was a tiny lady but she had an incredibly large rich sound, and her hands, which weresmall, seemed to extend to twice their normal size.

Schumann wrecked his playing career by injuring his fingers, and we are incredibly grateful becauseof all the music he was consequently able to write. Similarly, many pianists have reason to begrateful that Maria’s playing career came to a halt because she was free to channel her wonderfulgifts into helping so many people. She wasn’t just a teacher, she was one of the world’s great artists– altruistic and idealistic in everything she did. She was also a great friend. One of her maxims was‘We have to play feelings’, which says it all about Maria.”

The Music

The solo piano works in this programme are connected in various ways with Maria Curcio. Of thethree Lieder (she cherished an enduring love of the genre), two contain “Maria” in the title. She haddeep insight into the music of Mozart, Beethoven and Chopin (as well as that of Schubert andSchumann), and I was fortunate to study the present works by those three composers with her. Adevil-may-care Neapolitan tarantella and a soulful Brazilian lament represent both her lineage andher temperament. Rare works by her mentors Casella and Schnabel make an appearance, and finally“Widmung” symbolises her dedication and passion.

Liszt was among the first to recognize Schubert’s genius after the obscurity that followed his death.From 1838 to 1840 he arranged over forty of Schubert’s Lieder for piano solo. “Ave Maria” [1], thefinal number in a group of twelve that he arranged in 1838, was singled out for dedication to Mme.Marie d’Agoult, with whom he was living, not only because of its singular beauty but because of herChristian name. (Reger made a similar dedication, viz track 12.)

Although the song is now generally known as “Schubert’s ‘Ave Maria’” and is frequently used as asetting for the Catholic prayer, it was originally entitled “Ellens Gesang III – Hymne an dieJungfrau” (“Ellen’s Third Song – Hymn to the Virgin”) and is one of several 1825 songs in whichSchubert set excerpts, in a German translation, from Walter Scott’s epic poem of 1809-10 The Ladyof the Lake. Ellen Douglas, the eponymous lady, is in hiding in a cave and appeals to the Virgin for

help: “Ave Maria! maiden mild!/ Listen to a maiden’s prayer!/ Thou canst hear though from thewild,/ Thou canst save amid despair.”

Schubert recorded the instant popularity of this item in particular: “My new songs from WalterScott’s Lady of the Lake especially had great success. They were very surprised by my piety, too,which found expression in a Hymn to the Blessed Virgin and which seems to have moved everyheart and created quite a devotional atmosphere.” Liszt places the glorious melody in the midst ofwide-ranging and increasingly intricate accompanying figurations, creating in the process both avirtuoso study in texture and a miniature tone poem.

In 1829 Rossini retired as an opera composer at the age of thirty-seven, having writtenapproximately the same number of operas, and during his remaining thirty-nine years he enjoyed thefruits of his success composing mostly for his own amusement. Between 1830 and 1835 he penned aseries of “Soirées musicales”, eight solo songs and four vocal duets all with piano accompaniment,the eighth of which, “La danza” [2], in the rhythm of a rollicking Neapolitan tarantella, has becomea great favourite. Liszt arranged them all for solo piano a couple of years after they appeared,reordering them with the result that “La danza”, for example, became number nine. He extended thesong, principally by adding an introduction that includes a cadenza. Rossini’s tenor, who must excelin verbal gymnastics, sings Count Carlo Pepoli’s poem, beginning “Already the moon pervades thesea,/ Mamma mia, we’re going to leap!/ The hour is beautiful for dancing,/ No one who is in lovewill miss out on it.”

The Brazilian composer Heitor Villa-Lobos, the Argentinian Alberto Ginastera and the MexicanCarlos Chávez were the three giants of twentieth-century Latin American music. A virtually self-taught composer and later an important educator, Villa-Lobos was one of the first pioneers incollecting authentic folk music, travelling enormous distances to northern Brazil in 1905 and laterinto the interior. Among his numerous compositions are two series of works for diverse forces. Onecomprises nine Bachianas Brasileiras (1932-44) combining Brazilian folk styles, themselves amixture of Portuguese, African and Amerindian, with the spirit of J.S. Bach; the fifth of these, forsoprano and eight cellos, has become extremely popular. The other, earlier, series is of about fifteenChoros, all of them dating from the 1920s.

The choro is considered the first urban popular music of Brazil, appearing in Rio de Janeiro in the1870s. Although the word means weeping, the music is often joyful and can involve virtuosicimprovisation. Villa-Lobos described the choro as “the veritable incarnation of the Brazilian soul”and so it is appropriate that he gave to his fifth choro (1926) the subtitle Alma Brasileira (Brazilian

Soul) [3]. Dedicated to Arnaldo Guinle, a generous benefactor of the composer, it begins with amoving lament with a syncopated accompaniment whose rhythm persists into the later, dance-likesections. The lament returns, though with an unanticipated final twist.

Alfredo Casella, who could claim that one of his musical antecedents was a friend of Dante andanother a friend of Paganini, was influential in his native Italy as a pianist, conductor, teacher,proselytiser for new music and festival director (the Venice Festival of Contemporary Music). As acomposer his style developed from Romanticism – he was a student of Fauré at the ParisConservatoire – through experimentalism to neoclassicism. He dedicated his 1903 Variations on aChaconne [4] to Louis Diémer, the distinguished French pianist who had been his piano professor inthe Conservatoire. The form of the work testifies to his interest in early musical styles: indeed it wasCasella who was to be principally responsible for the revival of interest of Vivaldi’s works. Thechaconne theme, a brief sarabande in F minor, has echoes of Handel and of La folía; there are nineshort variations, three of which stray into F major, and the splendid fugal finale builds to a nobleperoration.

Despite being told by his teacher Leschetitzky “You will never be a pianist: you are a musician”,Artur Schnabel became one of the greatest pianists – and musicians – of the twentieth century. Lessknown are his activities as a composer; surprisingly for one revered for his playing of Mozart,Beethoven, Schubert, Schumann and Brahms, his mature works were atonal. Although he did little topromote these compositions, which included three symphonies and five string quartets, he didcontroversially interpolate his own unmistakably twentieth-century cadenzas when performingMozart piano concertos.

In his younger years Schnabel composed in a Romantic idiom, producing a piano concerto, songcycles and solo piano works. Born in Austrian Silesia, he had a flair for the Viennese waltz even tothe extent of including waltzes by Lanner and Josef Strauss in his recordings for piano rolls in 1905,and the last of his Three Piano Pieces, Op. 15 (1906), Walzer [5-8], consists of a set of four waltzes.The first is short and robust, the second and third are sentimental (the latter’s “schmaltz” could bemistaken for Lehár), and the extended final waltz, to be played “with the greatest swing”, is almost acaricature of the rhythmic quirk of the Viennese style. All in all they present the unexpectedlycharming side of an artist generally associated in the public’s mind with seriousness.

To continue the theme, perhaps it seems sacrilegious to liken the underlying rhythm of Mozart’sRondo in A minor [9], one of his most exquisite creations, to that of a waltz. He wrote the Rondo inMarch 1787, a month or so after producing the first of several sets of German Dances – ancestors ofthe waltz – for wind band, but if a connection exists the base metal has been alchemically

transformed into pure gold, for the Rondo is a precious masterpiece, written in 6/8 rather than 3/4, inthe minor mode and imbued with deep emotion. The key of A minor was seldom used by Mozart: hehad composed the highly charged A minor Piano Sonata, K. 310, in 1778 following – it is thought –the death of his mother; nine years later the more introverted Rondo, with its melodies straining tomove in small chromatic steps and its dissonances and suspensions, expresses sorrow suffused withdignified resignation. At 4’31” an episode in A major brings some relief but the prevailingmelancholy cannot be dismissed. The coda is heartrending.

Beethoven’s Fantasie, Op. 77, [10] dating from 1809, the year of the “Emperor” Concerto, is one ofhis most outlandish works. Sometimes described as being in G minor, it in fact has no one home key.Much earlier, probably in his teens, Beethoven had written two extraordinary Preludes (published asOp. 39 only in 1803, when his reputation allowed), both of which traversed all the twelve major keysin a strict circle of fifths, the second Prelude actually doing this twice. These did at least start andend in the same key (both in C major), but in the Fantasie Beethoven dispensed with the rulesentirely.

It opens with two disembodied rapidly descending harmonic minor scales, almost as if the pianistwere warming up in preparation. These introduce a one-phrase melody in G minor, but after lessthan twenty seconds Beethoven wrenches us unceremoniously into F minor and repeats the material,following which we hear a completely unrelated idea in D flat major. And so the piece continues,section following section with no discernible form, as though it had been extemporised on the spot.Indeed Carl Czerny, Beethoven’s protégé, declared that this work approximated closely to themaster’s improvising style, and so one may suspect that he was particularly pleased with one effortand wrote it out, sprucing it up a little for publication. Two motifs, revisited intermittently, offer adegree of coherence: the opening rapidly descending scale and a succession of solemn repeatednotes, a preoccupation of Beethoven’s middle period. It is the latter element that eventually (at4’50”) generates a theme in the unusual key of B major that becomes the subject of variations ofgrowing energy and complexity; these dominate the latter half of the work and it is in this new key,with a gruff joke, that the Fantasie concludes – an astonishingly early instance of what would muchlater come to be known as progressive tonality.

For Chopin exiled in Paris, the music of his native Poland typified by the polonaise and the mazurkaassumed an intensified significance, and he wrote many examples of each genre. His Polonaise in Fsharp minor [11], sometimes called the “Tragic”, was composed in 1841 and exudes tremendouspower. The middle section is unique, consisting of two sections of opposing characters – a trumpet-and-drum procession (3’01”) melting into an aching mazurka (4’38”).

Liszt waxed lyrical about the work in his “Life of Chopin”: “It is a most original composition,exciting us like the recital of some broken dream… It is a dream-poem, in which the impressions andobjects succeed each other with startling incoherency and with the wildest transitions… Theprincipal motive is a weird air, dark as the lurid hour which precedes a hurricane, in which we catchthe fierce exclamations of exasperation, mingled with a bold defiance, recklessly hurled at thestormy elements [this may be understood as political or psychological metaphor]… A mazurka in thestyle of an idyll … only augments, by its ironical and bitter contrast, our emotions of pain…” Theending is very sombre, with a final stab to the heart.

For the remainder of the disc we return to the human voice, the origin of all music and a majorinspiration for Maria Curcio. The Bavarian Max Reger lived for only forty-three years but produceda prodigious quantity of music, much of it complex, amalgamating the Brahmsian and theLisztian/Wagnerian into a richly chromatic fusion. His pupils Fritz and Adolf Busch, later to bementors and colleagues of Maria, played at his funeral.

In contrast to his reputation for prolixity – even self-confessed turgidity, he composed sixtySchlichte Weisen (straightforward melodies or simple tunes), Op. 76, for solo voice and pianobetween 1903 and 1912. The final volume, containing nine children’s songs subtitled “from thechild-life of Lotti and Christa [his much loved adopted daughters]”, was dedicated to Princess MarieElisabeth von Saschen-Meiningen, herself a gifted composer, and Reger saluted Marie by beginningwith “Mary’s Cradle Song” [12], to a poem by Martin Boelitz. This miniature, reflecting Reger’sCatholicism, became by far his most popular composition: the tender melody is accompanied by agentle rhythm suggesting the rocking of Jesus’s cradle and, despite the overall simplicity, there arealluring harmonic side steps. The version recorded here is Reger’s own piano transcription.

In 1840, aged thirty, Robert Schumann eventually married his beloved Clara after manytribulations. In that year alone he produced around one hundred and fifty songs, having written amere handful until then. Myrtles are traditionally used in bridal garlands and in his joy Schumannchose the title Myrthen for an offering to his bride, a collection of twenty-six Lieder setting severaldifferent poets. The first song, “Widmung” (“Dedication”) [13], is an ardent vow of love –Rückert’s poem begins “Thou my soul, thou my heart,/ Thou my bliss, thou my pain,/ Thou theworld in which I live”, and the quotation, felicitous in the present context, of Schubert’s “AveMaria” in the postlude was surely a homage to Clara. Liszt’s 1848 arrangement for solo piano liftsSchumann’s ecstasy to even greater heights.

Ch’io mi scordi di te … Non temer, amato bene [14] is the only aria in which Mozart included apiano obbligato – a magical inspiration. The main part is a resetting of the text (by the AbbéGiambattista Varesco) of a number added by Mozart in 1785 to his opera Idomeneo, in which he hadused a violin obbligato. This second version was composed in December 1786 for the beautifulEnglish soprano Nancy Storace for whom he had written the part of Susanna in Le Nozze di Figaro.He may well have been emotionally attracted to her – his inscription on the manuscript reads “ForMlle. Storace and myself”, they performed it together in her farewell concert the following February,and the sentiments expressed in the text, to say nothing of the rapturous, intertwining music intendedfor them both, seem revealing, in spite of the fact that he had been married to Constanze for four anda half years.

You ask me to forget you?You advise me calmly to forget you and love another and want that I still live?Ah, no! I would rather die!...

Do not fear, my love will never be changed.Faithful I shall always remain…

This live performance took place in the Concertgebouw, Amsterdam, on 6 February 1957; theluminosity of Maria Curcio’s playing shines through the half-century-old recording.

Notes © 2010 Anthony Goldstone

With grateful thanks to Henderson Insurance Brokers, Geoffrey Walters, Mrs G. Coode-Adams, the Royal Academy of Music and the Schnabel Music Foundation

The Pianist

Described by The New York Times as “a man whose nature was designed with pianos inmind”, Anthony Goldstone is one of Britain’s most respected pianists. A sixth-generationpupil of Beethoven through his great teacher Maria Curcio, to whom this recording isdedicated, Anthony Goldstone was born in Liverpool. He studied with Derrick Wyndham atthe Royal Manchester College of Music (which later honoured him with a Fellowship), laterwith Curcio in London.

He has enjoyed a career encompassing six continents, the Last Night of the Proms (afterwhich Benjamin Britten wrote to him, “Thank you most sincerely for that brilliantperformance of my Diversions. I wish I could have been at the Royal Albert Hall to join in thecheers”), very many broadcasts and seventy CDs (including the BBC issue of his LondonPromenade Concert performance of Beethoven’s fourth Piano Concerto). He has anadventurous approach to repertoire and has been praised by Vienna’s Die Presse for “hisastonishingly profound spiritual penetration”.

In the last few years Goldstone has become known for his acclaimed completions andrealisations of works for solo piano and piano duet by Schubert, and for two pianos and solopiano by Mozart, all of which he has recorded on Divine Art CDs alongside a host of raritiesas well as “core repertoire”.

He is also one half of the acclaimed and brilliant piano duo Goldstone and Clemmow with hiswife Caroline. The duo has made many CDs for Divine Art as well as Toccata Classics andother labels, including several containing world première recordings of major works andtranscriptions thereof by Tchaikovsky, Chopin, Mendelssohn, Dvořák, Gershwin and manyother composers.

Anthony Goldstone is currently also contributing copious rare and fine albums to Divine ArtUSA’s Russian Piano Music Series and continues to pursue a vigorous future recordingschedule.

Tracks 1-13 were recorded in St. John the Baptist Church, Alkborough, North Lincolnshire,England, in 2009.A Maxim digital recordingPiano technician: Benjamin E. Nolan

Re-mastering and post-production: Stephen Sutton (Divine Art)℗ 2010 Anthony Goldstone© 2010 Diversions, LLCTrack 14 was recorded at a live performance in Amsterdam on 6 February 1957 and is included bykind permission of the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra, Radio Netherlands Worldwide and AVROClassical Music, courtesy Mr Roland Kieft

AVRO CLASSICAL MUSIC, THE NETHERLANDS

Programme notes by Anthony Goldstone © 2010Design by Stephen Sutton of Divine Art © 2010All rights reservedCover image:Maria Curcio pictured at the wedding of Anthony Goldstone and Caroline Clemmow in 1989

Music publishers:Villa-Lobos: G. Ricordi & Co./Copyright ControlCasella: SIAE/G. Ricord & Co.Schnabel: Faber Music Ltd.

With grateful thanks to Henderson InsuranceBrokers, Geoffrey Walters, Sonia Coode-Adams,the Royal Academy of Music and the SchnabelMusic Foundation

ANTHONY GOLDSTONE

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